Fired
by Toadmiffle
Summary: It sucks waking up from a nightmare and struggling to distinguish reality from fantasy. What's worse is when you wake up only to discover that the reality you're in is a nightmare.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys, this is my third AR fic that I came up with the idea of when I was bored on a long drive. I have more written but know that I don't know where this story is going and am not sure how consistently it will be updated- depends on if I have ideas and if there's support. So yah, reviews make me happy

Why am I getting bounced around so much? That's my first thought on waking. My second is why can't I see? I will my arm to reach up at my eyes but my arm doesn't listen. My brain might be working but that's about it.

I force myself to keep calm and further examine my situation. I'm in a vehicle with unknown people and it feels as if we're on the highway. I must be blindfold because I can't see. My legs are curled up on the seat with me and I realize something else strange- a pair of earbuds play music straight into my head. The song has no lyrics, it's all instrumental and sounds like the soundtrack of a movie. The song is calm briefly but the rest of the time is dark and foreboding.

Why would they force me to listen to music? They must not want me to hear them talking. If they don't want me to hear them then they must just be the middle people- a puppet while someone else is the master.

I so wish to pull the head phones out and to rip the blindfold off. Any information would be an asset but my muscles aren't cooperating. Nothing is.

"...soon...?"

"Prob..."

There are fingers fumbling at the back of my head and the blindfold falls down. I shut my eyes as they're overwhelmed by the sudden brightness. I slowly open them again and manage to make out that the man is saying 'he's awake'. No duh.

One of the people in the front says something which I can't make out. The man (at least I think it's a man, he's completely covered in winter gear) sitting beside me leans down and fidgets with something at his feet. When he sits up straight he has a needle in his hand. I try to shake my head and try to scream but only a primal grunt comes out.

The needle gets jabbed in my arm and all hope of escape fades out of me with my strength.

The second time I wake up the music is absent which is nice. It still feels like I'm moving around but I'm stretched out, like I'm on a bed, not all contorted on a small seat. What kind of vehicle has a bed? Oh.

An ambulance. I'm in an ambulance.

A cloth still must be over my eyes because I can't see but when I try to get rid of it I find my arms are strapped down. I must be strapped down to the stretcher.

"Sir? He's waking up." I hear shuffling and then a cold hand is pulling at the blindfold.

"No...You're dead..."


	2. Chapter 2

I've always prided myself on not getting involved with matters of the heart but with Alex's 18 birthday drawing near I knew I had to do something. With him becoming an adult MI6 would have no control of him and he would need to be 'dealt with'. In the spy business that meant killing him. I couldn't let that happen.


	3. Chapter 3

"Obviously not. Be good and stay still or we'll be forced to drug you again. Understand?"

"Ya," I mutter.

"Good," he turns to the 'paramedic' sitting across from me, "Be ready to inject into his line if he starts acting up. We'll see how he is." The paramedic nods and Yassen clambers back to the front of the ambulance. I go over what I know in my head:

-Yassen's kidnapped me but doesn't want me dead

-Drugs are still coursing through me and I can't move

-Things are bad

The person sitting across from me doesn't listen to Yassen and inserts a syringe into the line in my arm despite my good behavior.

"Noooooo." I moan, dragging out the world. Yassen turns his head to see what I'm whining about and snaps at the man in a language I don't have the energy to translate. I accept the fact that I'm going to pass out and for once I don't resist against the blissful unconsciousness.

"...understand your problem but as I've told you I'm going to be busy for the unforeseen future..."

I blink my eyes open and catch the assassin's attention.

"I'll call you back," he mutters quietly and hangs up the phone. Neither of us wants to be the one to speak first.

"How do you feel?"

How do I feel? What kind of question is that?

"I'm fine."

"Fine hmm? I know for a fact you aren't fine. I doubt you can even stand up."

I don't care if the assassin is egging me on intentionally, I can't let him get away with it. I throw off the blanket and manage to get my legs hanging over the side of the bed but when I stand and put weight on them, they collapse. Surprisingly, the assassin doesn't laugh at my collapsed form but offers a hand to help me up which I of course don't take.

He shakes his head at my antics and picks me up which I strongly rebel against. But with my muscles not fully in my control it's a losing battle. He deposits me back on the bed and looks down at me as if I'm his entertainment.

"It'll do you good not to lie to me. I've experienced the drug you're on. You're anything but fine." I glare at him, unwilling to admit he's right.

"Rest. We'll talk when you have regained your strength."

"I can't 'rest' knowing an assassin is nearby." His facial expression doesn't change but I can tell he's mulling my words over.

"Rest." He says and lets himself out. I don't even hear the door lock. We both know he has complete control over me. Despite not being held down by physical means I'm stuck here until my muscles decide to cooperate and even then I have no clue where I am.

For the first time since waking up I look around the room. The space has a modern feel to it. The walls and everything else are white and the furniture is joined together at strange angles. The only door in the room is to my left and there doesn't appear to be any windows.

I don't even remember closing my eyes but the next thing I know is I'm rubbing the sleep from them.

I throw my legs over the side of the bed again, ready to give walking another try. I go more slowly this time, easing my weight onto my legs instead of all at once. Using the wall as support I manage to stagger to the door and as I suspected it isn't even locked.

The door leads into a narrow hallway which I leads into the kitchen and living area. The assassin is bent over the stove, stirring a pan of something on the stove. I continue to lean against the wall for support as I debate my next move. After all, running is always an option. Or in my case, stumbling and falling.

"You got more rest." He doesn't turn his head and I have no clue how he knows I'm even here.

"Yah." He continues to stir whatever he's cooking as I slowly stumble towards him. A knife lays to his right on the counter where he must have been cutting vegetables or something. I slowly hazard towards it, quickly grabbing it and holding it out in front of me. Yassen adds some spice to his dish before turning to look at me, and when he does? He doesn't look at all concerned.

"What are you doing, Little Alex?"

"What do you want?"

"Well, right now I'd like for you to put the knife down. Someone could get hurt." His last sentence catches me completely off guard. The assassin is worried about someone getting hurt? For some reason I doubt that.

Fast as a snake, Yassen lashes out, taking the weapon in my hand and using it against me. He's suddenly positioned behind me, knife held tightly against my throat.

"I warned you that someone could get hurt, but you didn't listen. Have you no self-preservation?"

"You won't kill me."

"Oh yah? What if I just brought you here to draw out your death? Make it slow and painful?" As he speaks he moves the knife slowly across my neck.

"You aren't one for theatrics." I mumble, every time I speak the knife cutting deeper into my skin, coming closer to cutting it open. Me coming that much closer to bleeding out.

"Are you really willing to bet your life on that little amount of support?" The knife gets thrown, entering the wall at a seemingly perfect 90 degrees. I watch the man, my face void of emotion. The ball's in his court. What he does with it is entirely up to him. I watch as he takes a deep breath and he watches me as I lost my balance and come tumbling down.

He drags me to the couch and pulls me onto it before resuming in the kitchen. I watch as he once again stirs the dish and turns the heat down.

I shouldn't be laying here, I shouldn't be acting so submissively near a dominating man but I just don't have the energy to fight back. I don't have the energy to run, I don't have the energy to come up with witty remarks, I don't have the energy to hide my feelings. And that is a dangerous thing.


	4. Chapter 4

Yassen carries on his with his menial tasks, paying no attention to me. My eyes weigh heavily and I struggle to give in to the temptations of sleep. But soon enough, I run out of energy to do that too.

It's bad enough having nightmares plague your sleep and interrupt your reality. What's worse is when you can't tell the difference. You can't tell if you're sleeping and having a nightmare or if the reality you're living is a nightmare.

You really can't blame me for what happened. In my dream- rather nightmare- I was being chased by someone. I don't know who and it do matter. If they had caught me things would not be pretty. As I was running for my life I spotted a glinting blade laying on a shelf, what would you expect to to do but attack my pursuer?

I'm torn from the nightmares by a loud exclamation of pain and I know it wasn't me. My eyes quickly adjust to the light and I nearly vomit at the site. Somehow, in my sleeping panic, I grabbed a very real, very sharp knife and attacked my assailant with it. Only my supposed assailant wasn't really a threat, not immediately at least. If he wants to kill me he's missed a dozen easy opportunities. But now, with a gaping cut on his right arm, I feel death is imminent.


End file.
